


wish i could drown in my ugly thoughts

by hotmess_ex_press



Category: Monsta X (Band)
Genre: Angst, Feelings Realization, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Possibly Unrequited Love, but the comfort makes it hurt even more, no au
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-04-21
Updated: 2019-04-21
Packaged: 2020-01-23 03:11:34
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,122
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18541108
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/hotmess_ex_press/pseuds/hotmess_ex_press
Summary: It's the first touch of Changkyun's cotton-sky skin that breaks Hoseok.





	wish i could drown in my ugly thoughts

Hoseok knows he shouldn't.

Oh _god_ , he knows he shouldn't.

It's all over him, the feeling, the _knowing_. It's in the sweat tattooed across his back, _don't let yourself_ , despite the cold ledge of the bathtub digging, freezing and solid, against his too-tight skin, _you're sick_. He knows, he knows, _he knows_ , and yet images he should be busy forgetting are simultaneously flower petals and glass shards, scraping against his resolve.

He feels so many things: none of them are _here_ , exactly where he needs them to be, in reach and half-visible. All of them are Changkyun.

The boy when he was still that, _a boy_ , his gaze cast down, long bangs concealing what was already so hard to find. Later, Changkyun a synonym and antonym of the same emptiness, hair lighter then, and swept up so there was nothing to cover his eyes but his own hands when they blossomed with tears. Changkyun, smiling like a sliver of glossy starlight peeking into tomorrow, peeling Hoseok's name from his lips and letting it flutter, a raw, ugly and beating thing, in his hands. _Hyung, you write heartbreak like you know her_.

(Maybe he does, maybe he doesn't. Maybe Changkyun is his heartbreak.)

Hoseok laces his fingers together, holds them over his mouth so he doesn't call out in his greed. He imagines Changkyun's fingers slipping between them instead. He imagines Changkyun's fingers holding his screams instead, palms warm and soft but pressing hard and merciless against Hoseok's throat, his mouth. He imagines Changkyun's fingers _making_ him scream instead, and doesn't realize his own hands trailing down his neck in a parody of touch until tears are already trickling after them.

Changkyun just _had_ to, didn't he? Take Hoseok's hands and speak low and wise yet unassuming, _had_ to know before even Hoseok did.

_You're in love, aren't you, hyung? But she doesn't love you back. I can see it on your face_ , Changkyun had whispered in the dark, but the light from the hallway still melted like candle wax across the room, long shadows stretching across the pearly light it shed on his face. His smile parting his lips, as if he was about to add _something_ \--

_He, he--I have to go_ , Hoseok remembers rasping, pulling himself away from Changkyun because _of course_. He's in love.

He's in love and he's sick.

He is a _brother_. He is Changkyun's brother: _you're the man I needed when I was growing up. You're so_ good _, hyung_. Changkyun crawls into his bed after bad dreams and leans against him on long bus rides and, god, he _trusts_ Hoseok. What would he do? If he realized what Hoseok is trying not to let control him, if he could read Hoseok's mind? He's dirty, all wrong and broken and wanting in the worst way a man he lives with, sings for, dances beside. A man who would stand beside him through all this hurt, never asking and never needing to know who started it all. So undemanding. It hurts more.

Hoseok has never been stuck like this, trying to grasp onto Changkyun while keeping his feet firmly planted in safety. He isn't what Changkyun needs, he tells himself. One day, as he's spiraling infinitely and silently, Hoseok will attend Changkyun's wedding like a good hyung. Not the best man, nor a groomsman, because he still won't be the best hyung, nor the second-best. Telling anyone who asks that the red eyes are from the beauty of the ceremony, not the beauty of Changkyun, or the beauty of the sweet young thing on his arm.

(It's only a three year difference, but that's three whole years Changkyun doesn't need to be tethered by someone like Hoseok.)

Still, he loves and adores Changkyun so steadily it _aches_ , perfectly and harmoniously, a sharp thorn lodged in his chest, right over his traitorous heart, thrumming as if one with his heartbeat. Whispering _Changkyun_ like the only song that will play on forever, sweet and teasing, in the back of his mind.

_When did you get so scared?_ his past self must be begging. The answer is simple, even if the rest is not: the fates of six are now woven around his ankles. And with one stumble, one sudden movement, he could be ripping through the seams of his team as well: hardworking Hyunwoo, desperate Minhyuk, proud Kihyun, fading Hyungwon, blinded Jooheon. His darling, darling Changkyun, too aware and not aware enough and unsteady on the platform he's been raised to. He is scared, so scared, because suddenly, it isn't just about him.

How is he still so selfish? There's a light knock on the bathroom door.

"Hyung?" voice softened through the wood. "Will you let me in?"

_Selfish_. At the very roots. He craves something, _anything_ , because that's what is better than this, the cold tile floor, alone too early. _Anything_. Hoseok reaches in the dark, hand eerie pale, to unlock the door.

Changkyun breathes out and Hoseok curses the moon, curses the night light faintly shining from the hall, curses his own glistening eyes, whatever it was that betrayed him to Changkyun first.

It's so much easier to cry in someone's arms.

"Changkyun, don't," Hoseok pleads when he makes to move closer. "Please."

Changkyun doesn't listen; there is a stubborn, young depth to his eyes. Hoseok wonders if that same look has lived and died in his own, though he knows, even if it did, he could never look so brave, so bright. "I have to."

And it's the first touch of Changkyun's cotton-sky skin that breaks Hoseok.

"Shh, shh." _It's you, it's you_. "It's okay." Hoseok curls up, screws his eyes shut, tries to make it easier for Changkyun's bony arms to hold him. But it doesn't work, it never does, he will _never_ fit into Changkyun's embrace. And the way he's making Changkyun watch him unravel, clinging to his presence, would sicken Hoseok if he wasn't already disgusted with himself for his own selfish, useless reasons. He doesn't deserve to cry, doesn't deserve to be comforted. And yet...

Changkyun exhales softly into his hair, fingertips skating over Hoseok's shoulders and down his arms. His breath catches, and Hoseok would be tearing at his own hair if his hands weren't busy being cradled by Changkyun's.

"Hyung, I'm here," Changkyun whispers, funnily enough. Hoseok lets out a strangled sound; a laugh, a sob, his heart fracturing on his tongue. "Nothing can hurt you here."

But he's wrong. It hurts every minute of every day, and it's agony at night. Hoseok tries to pull his hands back, but Changkyun's hold is everything he can't ask for. The only thing that can hurt him here is his own filthy heart.

**Author's Note:**

> comments and kudos are loved and cherished forever!


End file.
